He tells me, in this smooth late summer-early autumn air... that, he, him, with his whole heart entwined, loves me. He writes me,saying,  I ''ve seen your  written words that bleed onto the page.. But I just wish that I could be one of them. See, what this boy doesn't understand is that.. my passions, my loves, my hates, my quirks.. all of these are so fucking different then him. He is my THAT poison. Just like whatever THAT potion may be for him... I am for him..
But this soul, he gets me. He wants to breathe me, and i want to breathe him.. too bad I need my own version of an oxygen tank.. to keep myself so fucking hydroponic.. to keep myself lost on the words and strung out on the feeling of epiphany.. my love, you're my fucking epiphany. You're my good waiting on a bad to happen. You're my it's never too late to say sorry. You're my every waking second. You're my dirty thoughts .. you're the reason I keep writing.. you're the reason I keep dreaming.. you're the reason I keep.. fucking.